Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Down-River

Down-River
©April 26th, 2016

By Vijaya Sundaram

Float down-river, see me shiver.
I see you from afar, O Friend.

Come, draw me clear away from here
Why should I heed you when you plead?

Oh, take me where no one will stare
But if I do, you’ll see me true.

Oh come, dear friend, from out your dream,
And why should I, O voice who calls?

Come float me down this silver stream.
But it will end in a waterfall!

I cannot wait, the hour’s late
I’ll hold a place for you, O friend.

I’ll jump in now, come through somehow.
Then, you will see me at the end.

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My second response to today’s NaPoWriMo prompt (Day 26 )

And last, but not least, our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates a call and response. Calls-and-responses are used in many sermons and hymns (and also in sea chanties!), in which the preacher or singer asks a question or makes an exclamation, and the audience responds with a specific, pre-determined response. (Think: Can I get an amen?, to which the response is AMEN!.). You might think of the response as a sort of refrain or chorus that comes up repeatedly, while the call can vary slightly each time it is used …

… The call can be longer than the response, or vice versa. But think of your poem as an interactive exchange between one main speaker and an audience. Happy writing!

 

Hear Not the Call; Do Not Respond

Hear Not the Call; Do Not Respond
©April 26th, 2016

By Vijaya Sundaram

Come, fly the skies with roaring cries!
We shan’t, we won’t, O Thunderbolt!

Oh come, release the tops of trees!
But you’ll not win, O Typhoon winds!

Let’s burn the shade from all these glades!
Oh, that’s not done, O blazing sun.

Let’s churn the seas into boiling tea
We shall refrain, O Hurricane!

Let’s split the heaven with flashes seven
We’ll all revolt, O Lightning bolt!

We’ll come in peace, make tumult cease
We’ll take a stand, and save this land.

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My first response to today’s NaPoWriMo prompt (Day 26 )

And last, but not least, our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates a call and response. Calls-and-responses are used in many sermons and hymns (and also in sea chanties!), in which the preacher or singer asks a question or makes an exclamation, and the audience responds with a specific, pre-determined response. (Think: Can I get an amen?, to which the response is AMEN!.). You might think of the response as a sort of refrain or chorus that comes up repeatedly, while the call can vary slightly each time it is used …

… The call can be longer than the response, or vice versa. But think of your poem as an interactive exchange between one main speaker and an audience. Happy writing!

 

 

Whispers of Another Land

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Whisper

Whispers of Another Land
©April 25th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

To wave your oar at every ship that goes
Upon the waves on which you row your boat
Is foolishness, for all it does is show
The world around you that you are afloat.

The whispers of a land from far away
Are just the wake in which your vessel flies,
But now, distracted by the waves that play
You turn around with wheeling seabirds’ cries.

When whispers of another world are drowned
By shouts of glee and mirth that pass like mist
In mid-day sun before you run aground
You push your oar into the waves, resist!

When distant voices try to reel you in —
Come, let them pull you up above the din.

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P.S.  I seem to want to keep writing sonnets nowadays!

Ishmael – A Fever in a Dream

Ishmael – A Fever in a Dream
©April 25th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

The whale sings of coral, and of algae
The whale sings of deep sea divers
Who dive for the perfect pearl
The Pearl of the World.

And as they come and go,
The whale watches from afar,
And sings her lonely song
Waiting for her pod,
For she is lost, as she sings:

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!

And, singing, she turns
About and around, and bursts to breach
The surface, and startle the waiting sky,
Her heartbreak and her loneliness
Breathe  song into the listening air,
And pull in longing into her lungs.

Without hope, without despair,
Without sorrow or pain,
She sings these
thoughts:

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!

But she knows nothing of saints,
She knows nothing of pity.
The sound of whale-song,
Is what fills her heart.

She sings and she sings, and no one
Hears her, save a sailor or three
Whose names might be Ishmael,
Or, mayhap, Ahab, or Other.

Falsely is she named
And falsely pursued.
But in the end, she escapes
Them all, for in the end,
She finds her pod,
As they swim towards her,
With welcoming flukes
And welcome songs,
As she sings hers:

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea
.

In the end, all humans die
On the heaving heart of water,
Save one, just the one,
And in the end, does this man
Roam the wide, wide sea.

An albatross around his neck,
Swings like a pendulum,
Marking the days, the hours
That tick by, as he thirsts
Endlessly, and cries to the skies:

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!

Or, perhaps, it’s a cross
The one he bears, and will bear
Till the end of his days,
As he cries for respite.

Or, perhaps, it’s a pendant
Full of flash and beauty
Signifying nothing, just a piece
Of coral and a pearl on a string
Torn from the gut of a
Dying sea-thing.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea
!

He thirsts and he cries,
This lonely man, as he’s found,
And he rises among the pod,
A man among whales.
And as they hold him aloft,

Forgiving him the ills
Of his kind.  He bursts
Into a thousand points
Of light, and dissolves
Himself in salt and water
And makes of himself
A feast for the sea.

And the whale, flowing
In his wake, cries for him
As he re-forms, and grows
Into plankton to feed her.

And she eats and sings:
“Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!

This man who drifted
Took pity on my soul
In agony.

“And offered of himself
That I might feed.
My pod is the pod of
Ishmael, and we shall
Roam the seas, always singing,
‘Remember this man
This Ishmael, this lost one,
Who roamed for years,
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide, wide sea!’

And take heart, for he
Lives among us, still.

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In response to Day 25 prompt from NaPoWrimo:

(I guess I chose a magic-realist route!)

And now for our (optional) prompt! Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that begins with a line from a another poem (not necessarily the first one), but then goes elsewhere with it. This will work best if you just start with a line of poetry you remember, but without looking up the whole original poem. (Or, find a poem that you haven’t read before and then use a line that interests you). The idea is for the original to furnish a sort of backdrop for your work, but without influencing you so much that you feel stuck just rewriting the original!. For example, you could begin, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day,” or “I have measured out my life with coffee spoons,” or “I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster,” or “they persevere in swimming where they like.” Really, any poem will do to provide your starter line – just so long as it gives you the scope to explore. Happy writing!

The Star-Poacher (On Borrowing)

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Borrowed

The Star-Poacher (On Borrowing)
©April 24th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

I was hungry; food had been denied me
I went abroad, my trusty net in hand
To hunt down stars which had been snagged by trees
I brought them down to eat, though they were banned.

I chased after a shooting star, but found
‘Twas full of salt and rock, and oily ore.
Besides, I liked to eat the light and sound
Of things I’d stolen from the Big Bang’s store

The moon came swimming by into my ken
I spread my net to catch her, but alack,
I fell in, but was hoisted there and then
Upon a passing comet’s friendly back.

Now, borrowing this comet’s tail I ride
To space to hunt and eat the stars that hide.

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Note:  I already wrote a Petrarchan sonnet yesterday for NaPoWriMo, but I thought I’d write a Shakespearean sonnet as well for today’s The Daily Post prompt, and cross-post it to NaPoWriMo.
(Somewhere deep within, I think I was inspired by Italo Calvino’s Cosmicomics, although I didn’t think about it consciously while writing this sonnet!  Calvino rules!)

Lucubrations of a Doggy Sort

Lucubrations of a Doggy Sort
©April 24th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

I inveigle my canine companion
Into perambulating with me
Down the street
To do her doggy business.

Her Linty Goofiness
Sidesteps my urgent
Persuasions and entreaties
Staunchly, steadfastly refusing
To step onto the patch of grass

Oh no, not she!
What catches her fancy
Is a squirrel, bushy-tailed,
Impertinent, inquisitive,
Flashing its tail at her,
Semaphoring inter-species
Flirtation – or, could it be
That the squirrel wishes to 
Incite my dog’s not-too-hidden
Need for committing mayhem?

My dog, thus instigated
Tears around at the end
Of quivering leash,
Barking her head off,
While my inner self
Doubles over in helpless
Cachinnation, and my outer one
Vociferates fiercely
With loud and indignant calls.

The squirrel leaves,
Peace returns,
The dog meditates on
The grassy patch of a
Toronto sidewalk,
Leaves her scent
For another to comment on,
And trots serenely on,
With me in tow.

These and more shallow
Thoughts occupy
My sieve-like mind,
As I lucubrate
Over this pathetic
Efflux, and labour over
Ephemeral pursuits,
Like Poetry.

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In response to the NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 24:

And last but not least, our prompt (optional, as always). Today I challenge you to write a “mix-and-match” poem in which you mingle fancy vocabulary with distinctly un-fancy words. First, spend five minutes writing a list of overly poetic words – words that you think just sound too high-flown to really be used by anyone in everyday speech. Examples might be vesper, heliotrope, or excelsior. Now spend five minutes writing words that you might use or hear every day, but which seem too boring or quotidian to be in a poem. Examples might be garbage disposal, doggy bag, bathroom. Now mix and match examples from both of your lists into a single poem. Hopefully you’ll end up with a poem that makes the everyday seem poetic, and which keeps your poetic language grounded. Happy writing!

Do I Disappoint? (Three Light-hearted Senryu)

In response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Disappointment

Do I Disappoint?
(Three Light-Hearted Senryu)
©April 23rd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

Do I disappoint?
Asks the sunflower of the sun –
Gentle light rains down.

____________________________________________________________

Do I disappoint?
Asks the child of her mother
(Love’s cocoon enfolds).

____________________________________________________________

Do I disappoint?
Asks a dog in mild disgrace –
Grinning tail melts stone.

____________________________________________________________

Curtain-Close

Curtain-Close
©April 23rd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

When the curtain falls, and it’s time to sleep
The long sleep, I’ll give thanks for life, and go
To where my spirit takes me, and you’ll know
‘Tis not the time to mourn – so, do not weep.

There are things I will toss, and things I’ll keep
Resentment and regret, these shall I throw
Disappointment will soon be next to go
Grief is harder, for it is far too deep

For tears or fare-thee-wells, with ties that bind
Us all across our flesh and blood and cell.
So do not cry.  For I’ll emerge from night
(Though I shall miss all those I’ll leave behind)
When I step forth among the stars to dwell
In clouds of nebulae to rest in light.

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P.S.  This is my VERY FIRST Petrarchan sonnet (and I tried my hand at sonnets as a form only since October of 2015)!  Yay!  Another form I finally tackled (and one I’d hitherto avoided, because I was worried I couldn’t do it)!

Petrarchan Sonnet: a sonnet form popularized by Petrarch, consisting of an octave with the rhyme scheme abbaabba and of a sestet with one of several rhyme schemes, as cdecde or cdcdcd.  Also called Italian sonnet.

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And finally, our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I challenge you to write a sonnet. Traditionally, sonnets are 14-line poems, with ten syllables per line, written in iambs (i.e., with a meter in which an unstressed syllable is followed by one stressed syllable, and so on). There are several traditional rhyme schemes, including the Petrarchan, Spenserian, and Shakespearean sonnets. But beyond the strictures of form, sonnets usually pose a question of a sort, explore the ideas raised by the question, and then come to a conclusion. In a way, they are essays written in verse! This means you can write a “sonnet” that doesn’t have meet all of the traditional formal elements, but still functions as a mini-essay of a sort. The main point is to keep your poem tight, not rangy, and to use the shorter confines of the form to fuel the poem’s energy. As Wordsworth put it, in a very formal sonnet indeed, “Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room.” Happy writing!

Forgive Us Now … And at the Time of Your Death

Written in response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:  Earth

Forgive Us Now … And at the Time of Your Death
©April 22nd 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram

She bloomed
In the chaos of night,
In the clang and clamor
Of her birth-pains,
In the clash and clutter
Of planets forming,
Re-forming,
Dying, becoming moons
Or clouds, or dust.

She birthed
Microbes and giants,
And sea-things and air-things
And ground-things,
In a frenzied burst
Of lonely lust
Of love, perhaps.

Hostile space
Pressing down, down upon her –
An untamed sun,
A runaway moon,
Gas-giants in the distance,
And nary a friend.
She formed and re-formed
Herself, my sui generis
My Earth.

She, my mother,
Whom I love beyond all
Whose trees I worship,
Whose animals I adore,
Whose horrors I fear,
Whose gifts I revere,
Dies before our eyes.

Weep!  Weep tears of blood!
Write pretty poetry!
Write paeans unending.
Write songs and ditties.
Dance for her,
Clear her air,
Plant more trees,
Halt her death,

Try!

Alas, you cannot,
You cannot,
You cannot.
Crumple down now,
Down on your knees,
Lift up your hands,
Cry!

Pray!

Ah yes, and do, please
Celebrate today,
Your Earth day!

Celebrate  – and beg for
Her forgiveness.

This is the sin
I will own.

Forgive us all.
Forgive me,

O My Mother.

________________________________________
Also submitting this as my second Earth poem to NaPoWriMo:

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Happy Earth-day – A Ragged Ditty

Happy Earth-day – A Ragged Ditty
©April 22nd, 2016

By Vijaya Sundaram

Good day, O Earth!
Emerged at birth
With storms and light
And endless night,
You burst to life
From bloodless strife.
And then, life grew,
And plants all new
Arose and filled
Your carbon mill
With pure air sweet,
Until our feet
Tromped far and wide,
With steps of pride.

And now, a shroud
Of methane clouds
From humankind’s
Polluting minds
Covers your world.
Still, you unfurl
Your petals fair,
And everywhere
Life grows and blooms,
Grows old in gloom,
And dies in time,
While sunny climes
Burn stridently,
And frozen ones
Melt silently.

Perhaps, She’ll live
And She’ll forgive
Our transgressions,
Our aggressions,
Our ignorance,
Restore balance
And leave us out –
Without a doubt
The one mistake
She will not make
This time around.
(In shame we’ll drown.)

But still I walk
These shaded woods

And still I talk
With hopeful “shoulds”

And still I hear
The bubbling streams

While I ignore
My troubling dreams.

For time is short
And life will end

Make space for creatures,
Be Earth’s friend

Love all of life,
And all that’s here

May peace and love
This planet steer.

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NaPoWriMo banner copyP.S.  Not my best poem, but I wanted to write one anyway.
(I’m a little tired, and need to sleep)

This is NaPoWriMo‘s prompt for Day 22:

And now for our (optional) prompt. Today’s prompt comes to us from Gloria Gonsalves, who also suggested our prompt for Day Seven. Today, Gloria challenges us all to write a poem in honor of Earth Day. This could be about your own backyard, a national park, or anything from a maple tree to a humpback whale. Happy writing!